


It's a Wonderful Suprise

by sixxstiel



Series: Divine Intervention: On Holiday [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, dean's birthday 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixxstiel/pseuds/sixxstiel
Summary: Not long after New Year's, Castiel and Dean have settled into their new life together, more or less, but not everything is as good as it seems.Written in celebration of Dean Winchester's birthday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [oceanbluecas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanbluecas).

   
Running his fingers through Dean's short blonde hair, Cas smiled softly. The couple was lounging on the couch, as they always did, when the younger man got home from his shift at the bar he worked in not far from their apartment in downtown Lawrence. Castiel Novak had moved in with Dean almost a month ago, on Christmas morning.  
   
Cas still couldn't believe that Dean expected nothing from him. Sure, he was living here at Dean's request until he was “back on his feet”, but Cas had assumed, however incorrectly, that Dean would want _something_ from him— cooking, cleaning, sex— he knew Dean found him attractive and, yes, their “friendship” had changed over the last three weeks, but Dean had never once suggested that they share his bed. Glancing down at the man, Cas recalled the reason it changed.   
   
It had all started the morning of New Years . . .  
   
He always had the same nightmare and it began the exact same way every time. Usually, in reality, Dean would go straight to his room, change, and then they’d pick a movie Cas hadn’t yet seen to watch. But, in the dream, it was different. Instead of heading to his room, Dean went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He’d then pull a chair from the dining room over and st in front of Cas; he’d open his beer, take a long drink, and start with “Cas, we need to talk.” Dean would then tell Cas that he’d decided he wasn’t up to taking care of him, citing all of the reasons he was unable to do so, and would then ask him to leave.  
   
Cas would never beg to stay. In truth, he’d always expected to be kicked out. He just never knew when it would happen. After a minute or two, Cas would slowly get up from the couch and go to the room that had, for a short time, been his. He’d pack up several shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, the three pairs of long johns that Dean had insisted on buying him— “Cas, I don’t care that you don’t have a job right now, the point is that it’s fucking fifteen below outside. I don’t want you to get sick” —including six pairs of socks and some underwear in a backpack that Dean had somehow left on his bed without him knowing. Dean would always stand at the door while he packed. Cas never said anything about him standing there; he didn’t know if Dean was there because he didn’t trust Cas not to take something that he wasn’t supposed to, or if it was because he felt guilty that Cas was going to be alone again after he left the apartment.  
   
Once he had his meager belongings packed, Cas would vacate the apartment and head across the street to the park—they’d talked about having a picnic here once the weather warmed up. _That won’t happen now_ , Cas had thought with a tight smile. He never looked back but he knew Dean would stand there, waiting to see where Cas went from the park, but he never left it. He stayed, for weeks, there, just on the off chance Dean came looking for him—Dean never did.  
   
He always woke from the dream as his dreamself was falling asleep on the cold surface of a bench in the park closest to Dean’s apartment, weeks after being asked to leave. He knew it had been weeks, because in the dream, the weather slowly and yet all at once grew colder, his clothes became more tattered, and by the end of it, what once had been a five o’clock shadow was, by then, a full beard.  
   
But there was something different about the morning of January 1st. Cas couldn’t explain it, but when he woke up, he woke up screaming. Upon waking, he turned on the bedside lamp. He hadn’t meant to scream, and doing so caused Dean to burst into his room, brandishing a handgun. _Where the fuck did he get that?_ Cas thought, before realizing that Dean had just come into his room, unannounced.   
   
After seeing no immediate threat, Dean asked, “What is it, Cas?”  
   
“I . . .” he tried to begin, but fell silent.  
   
Realizing Cas wasn’t going to go on, Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for Cas’ hand, taking it in his own. “Cas?”  
   
Cas let out a heavy sigh. “It was just a nightmare.”  
   
When Cas failed to continue, Dean gently prodded, “That must have been some nightmare.”  
   
Cas nodded but still refused to say anything, ducking his head in embarrassment instead.  
   
“Cas?”  
   
“Yes, Dean?”  
   
“Will you tell me about your nightmare?”  
   
“I don’t . . .”  
   
Rubbing his thumb over the back of Cas’ hand, he begged, “Please?”  
   
Cas sighed and gave Dean a brief summary of it, ending with, “I don’t know why it scared me so badly this time.”  
   
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that ever _actually_ happening,” Dean said, but when Cas didn’t look at him, nor acknowledge what he’d spoken, Dean gently tugged on his hand. “Cas?”  
   
Cas tilted his head up, and their eyes met.  
   
Dean smiled softly. “You know I would never do that to you, right?” Cas gave a halfhearted shrug, so Dean just scooted closer to Cas and enveloped the man in a loose hug. “I won’t, Cas. You belong here, with me.” He held on, arms wrapped around Cas’ shoulders until he felt the tension melting from them and his body relaxing against Dean’s. He pulled back just far enough to get a good look at Cas’ face. “Do you…” He sighed, swallowed, and tried again. “Do you think we could talk later this morning?”  
   
Cas narrowed his eyes in question.  
   
Dean glanced to the alarm clock on Cas’ nightstand. Cas followed his gaze and, noticing the bright blue numbers revealing it was just after five in the morning, nodded. “Of course, Dean.”  
   
“Unless, I mean . . . Are you up for talking now?”  
   
Cas gave a small smile. “I’m always up for speaking with you.”  
   
Dean stood up, somewhat abruptly. When Cas looked at him, confusion plain on his face, Dean answered the unspoken question. “I’m going to grab a chair from the dining room.”  
   
Tensing, Cas pleaded, “You don’t need to do that, Dean.”  
   
Glancing around the sparsely furnished room, Dean said, “Cas, there’s nowhere for me to sit.”  
   
Wrapping his fingers gently around Dean’s wrist, he asked, “What’s wrong with the bed?”  
   
There was a strong sense of hesitancy in Dean’s tone when he spoke. “Uh… Are you sure?”  
   
“Of course,” Cas answered, tilting his head slightly, “Why wouldn’t I be?”  
   
“Well, I just . . . I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”  
   
“Uncomfortable?” Cas parroted, bafflement tilting his head to the side and squinting his eyes.  
   
“Because I . . .,” Dean tried, “You know how I feel and we haven’t . . . Umm, we’ve never talked about how _you_ feel.”  
   
Cas smiled and gently tugged at Dean’s hand, pulling him so he was sitting on Cas’ bed again. “I do know how you feel about me.” He scooted closer. “But you’re right. We haven’t talked about how I feel.” Cas let the words hang in the air for a brief moment, then closed the small distance between the two men. He felt more than heard the other man inhale sharply against his lips before placing one hand on the back of Dean’s neck to pull him into a gentle kiss.   
   
It took a second for Dean to respond.  
   
Dean placed his hand on the back of Cas’ head and threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling slightly. Cas moaned and ran his tongue over Dean’s lips, waiting for the other to allow him entrance. When Dean’s lips parted, Cas licked his way inside. Several seconds later, when Cas felt Dean’s tongue slow from moving against his own, he pulled back to ask, “Does that tell you how I feel?”  
   
Smiling, Dean nodded. “Yeah, it does.”  
   
Cas had leaned back against the headboard and opened his arms for Dean to cuddle with him. Once the younger man was settled against Cas’ chest, it didn’t take long for Dean to slip into slumber. Cas smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, and let his own eyes slip shut.  
   
When Cas woke up several hours later, Dean wasn’t there. Fearing he’d dreamt the entire thing, Cas quickly got up and exited his bedroom. He stopped just outside his door, near the end of the hallway. There in the living room, he saw Dean sitting on the couch with his laptop on the coffee table in front of him. Cas leaned against the wall for a moment, watching and thinking about how lucky he was to have stumbled into this man’s bar on Christmas Eve.  
   
Dean must have felt Cas staring at him because, after a couple minutes, he turned around with a small grin plastered to his face. “Mornin’, Cas.”  
   
Rather than replying, Cas crossed the small living space to the couch. He sat down next to Dean and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. He didn’t answer until he’d pulled back from the kiss. “Good morning, Dean.”  
   
Dean stared at him for what seemed like hours—though it could only have been seconds—and finally asked, “So . . . We should probably talk about how this,” he gestured between the two of them, “is going to work.” He looked to Cas, who sat with a small smile on his face, and raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
   
Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just happy, I guess.”  
   
Dean had reached out to take Cas’ hand. “I am, too.”  
   
They sat, staring at each other for several minutes before Cas finally said, “So you want to talk about this?”  
   
A voice pulled Cas from his memories, and he blinked, clearing his thoughts, and found Dean looking at him expectantly. “Cas, you listening?”  
   
“Yes, Dean?”  
   
“I asked if wanted to go out to dinner tomorrow?”  
   
“Dinner . . .?” he repeated.  
   
“Yeah, Cas. Dinner.”  
   
“Sure,” he answered. “Who’re we meeting?”  
   
“No one. It’d just be us.”  
   
Cas stopped running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You mean . . .”  
   
When Cas didn’t complete his thought, Dean sat up, turning to look at him as he did so. “What?”  
   
“Like a date?” Cas mumbled, sounding unsure, but maybe a bit hopeful, too.  
   
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean confirmed, “a date.”  
   
“But we’ve never . . .”  
   
“I know, Cas. That’s why I’m asking.”  
   
“You want to . . .”  
   
“Go on a date with you? Yes, I do.”  
   
“But we . . .”  
   
Dean sighed. “Cas, I want to take you to dinner.”  
   
“And that will be our first date?”  
   
Chuckling, Dean replied, “Yes. It’ll be our first date.” He gave a half-smile. “Would that be alright with you?”  
   
Cas gave a half shrug. “It would. But Dean . . .”  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“I wouldn’t be able to take you to dinner for awhile.”  
   
Dean shook his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”  
   
“I have yet to find a place of employment.”  
   
“Ok,” Dean said, slowly, “And what does that have to do with me taking you out to dinner tomorrow?”  
   
“Well, I wouldn’t be able to do the same,” Cas gestured at Dean, “Take _you_ out to dinner.”  
   
“Cas, I don’t care about that. I know you’ve been looking for work everyday.” Dean pointed at the coffee table, where his laptop sat. “It’s what we’ve done every afternoon before I go into work since New Year’s. You read the newspaper, and I use my laptop to find jobs for you to apply for. I _know_ you’re trying hard to find something, and that’s part of the reason I waited this long to suggest going out on a date— because I knew you’d worry about being able to do the same.”  
   
“I _am_ trying,” Cas quietly said.  
   
“I know you are.”  
   
Of course, Cas couldn’t find a job as easily as others would. Most places he would be comfortable applying to, Dean refused to allow him to do so, reciting, “You’re better than that, Cas. I’ve seen what you can do with pen and paper. They can’t pay you what you’re worth.” However, unknowingly to Dean, the first two days he’d searched, Cas had applied at several places that could “pay him what he was worth”, only to be rejected each time due to his last place of employment. Cas tried not to let that discourage him, but— unfortunately— it was getting harder and harder to act like it didn't hurt.  
   
Cas’ father was one of the foremost architects in San Antonio. When he was thirteen, Cas had gone into Mr. Novak’s study looking for him, and instead saw the model of the new office building his father was relocating the company to. Cas sketched it, changing a few things he thought would make it sleeker. His father found him sitting in the office, finishing up the drawing two hours later. Mr. Novak asked Cas why he’d changed certain things and, after explaining why, his father agreed that the changes made would benefit the building, implementing them on his own blueprints. The following evening, Cas had been called into his father’s study and asked what he wanted to do with his talent.   
   
Cas, of course, was shocked— Mr. Novak had never approved of Cas’ artistic abilities, always citing that they were a waste of time, and that he should focus more on his school work than drawing. Cas told his dad he'd never thought about it—because why admit he'd wanted to when his father disapproved of it? Mr. Novak told him that he should get a degree in architecture and work for him. Cas told his father he'd think about it, but ultimately knew his father had already decided on it, regardless for Cas’ own feelings on the matter.  
   
“Cas?”  
   
Shaking the remembrance from his head, he asked, “What?”  
   
“Are you still interested in going to dinner with me tomorrow?”  
   
He leaned closer to Dean, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Of course I am.”  
   
Dean gave a shy smile. “Ok then.”  
   
The couple settled back on the couch to watch _He’s Just Not That Into You_ , which Cas had selected, for a few minutes before he remembered that tomorrow was Sunday, and that Dean worked Sunday nights. “Dean?”  
   
“Hmm?”  
   
“Don’t you work tomorrow?”  
   
“No,” Dean replied punctuating the word with a shake of his head, “I asked for tomorrow off.”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“Because I wanted to take my boyfriend out to dinner.”  
   
“So you took the whole night off?”  
   
“Yeah, Cas, I did.”  
   
“We could have went to dinner on a night you were off.”  
   
“We could have, but I want to do it tomorrow.”  
   
“Why?”  
   
Dean sat up and faced him. “Because I want to, Cas.” He huffed. “I didn’t know you’d have a problem with me taking a night off.”  
   
Cas shrank back. “I don’t, Dean.”  
   
“Then lay off,” he snapped.  
   
For a moment, there was nothing but silence before Cas tentatively said, “Dean?”  
   
Dean stood up from his place on the couch, firmly stating, “I’m going to bed.”  
   
“Dean—”  
   
Instead of replying, Dean shook his head and retreated to his room.  
   
Cas sat on the couch, staring after him for several minutes, before turning off the television, standing up, and slowly crossing the living room to his own bedroom.

The next morning, the sound of snoring startled Cas awake. He glanced around the small room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, only to realize that the sound was coming from his own bed.  
   
_I know I went to bed alone . . ._ he glanced down to see Dean wrapped around him like he was clinging to a life raft. _And what possessed him to crawl into bed with me? We’ve never slept in the same bed together . . . Well, there was that_ one _time, but it doesn’t count._ Cas smiled down at his boyfriend. _Maybe he wanted to apologize but didn’t want to wake me._  
   
Cas carefully untangled his limbs so he could climb out of bed. Removing his body weight from it caused Dean to stir and Cas froze, waiting to see if he’d also wake. After a moment, Dean had settled back into his peaceful sleep, so Cas quietly opened the bedroom door wide enough for him to slip out before closing it again.  
   
Knowing he needed to start the coffee maker because he’d need at least half a pot of the stuff to make it through the day, Cas headed to the cramped kitchen. It had taken him a long while to fall asleep the night before, his mind whirring with worry about whether he’d pissed Dean off or not. While waiting for the coffee to brew, he pulled out two mugs, sugar and a spoon, and when it was ready, Cas poured himself a cup, doctored it to his liking, and headed to the living room, leaving the spoon and extra coffee mug out in case Dean woke up anytime soon.   
   
Sitting on the couch, Cas leaned over the coffee table to open and boot up the laptop so he could start his daily search. Dean usually did the work on the laptop, but Cas was eager to get started on his hunting this morning, so he wasn’t inclined to wait on the younger man’s assistance.  
   
However, he _should_ have waited for Dean’s help.  
   
Upon the screen being loaded, Cas realized he was going to need a password to access, well, anything on the laptop. Instead of getting upset about it, he watched the screen saver float pictures across the screen. There were several he’d seen around the house, but there were a few he’d never seen before.  
   
There was one of a young blonde woman standing in front of what looked to be a bar. She was staring at the man next to her with a grin on her face.The next was of an older man in a wheelchair holding a hunting rifle; taking in the rough look of the man, it was probably Dean’s uncle, Bobby. The following was of Dean himself sleeping peacefully in bed. The picture had obviously been taken by someone close to him. After the picture of Dean sleeping, there was a photo of Dean and John Winchester. Cas gave a sad smile, wondering what it was like to have a father who judged you based on who you were rather than who you loved.  
   
When the next photo popped on screen, Cas wondered who it was. There was no way of knowing. Neither Sam nor Dean were in the photo. The man was older, probably four or five years than Cas himself. He wore a black beret and had a reddish tint to his well trimmed beard.The man looked to be as tall as Cas, but without anything in the background to compare him to, Cas was unsure. He was smiling seductively at whoever was taking the photo.  
   
Cas was transported back to the last time he’d been looked at like that (before Dean, that is):  
   
_“Stop it!” the words were mumbled against his warm skin._  
   
_“Make me,” he breathed._  
   
_Then came a whisper. “You don’t really want me to do that.”_  
   
_“Of course I do.”_  
   
_His lover pulled away from his neck. “Are you sure?” he asked, in a teasing tone, “I could hurt you . . .”_  
   
_Staring into blue eyes, Cas smiled. “I think I’ll be ok.”_  
   
_The smile that crossed the face of the man looming over him was not one of malice, but of promise. Cas wetted his lips in anticipation._  
   
Cas was jerked back to the present, by someone mumbling from in front of him. Instinctively, he asked, “Huh?”  
   
“I asked, ‘what do you think you’re doing?’”  
   
Looking up from the laptop, Cas faced an angry Dean staring at him. “I . . . I thought that maybe I—”  
   
“What? You’d take a stroll through my memories?”  
   
Shaking his head fiercely, Cas answered, “No, of course not.”  
   
Hearing the worried tone in Cas’ voice, Dean let out the breath he’d been holding and apologized. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, Cas.”  
   
“Which time?” Cas asked, indignantly.  
   
“Both,” he answered, sitting down next to Cas so his knee was close, but not quite close enough to press against Cas’. “You didn’t deserve either.”  
   
Cas placed his hands on his own knees. “You’re right, I didn’t.”  
   
Dean reached over, grasping one of Cas’ hands in his own and placed a kiss on the back of it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Today is important to me, is all, and I guess I’m just really feeling it, y’know?”  
   
“You don’t have to tell me, Dean,” Cas said, and then, knowing it would probably upset Dean but hoping it wouldn’t, he quietly added, “especially if it has to do with your mother.”  
   
“No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Mom.” Dean took a deep breath. “Last night, I was upset because you wouldn’t just accept that I wanted today to be special.” He looked down at the floor, embarrassment evident on his face. “And then I came in here and saw you on the laptop, Cas, which made me mad because I didn’t want you to see one of the pictures on it.”  
   
Cas rubbed Dean’s arm. “It’s alright. I shouldn’t have assumed it was ok to use it without your permission.”  
   
Placing his hands over his face, Dean responded, “That’s where you’re wrong. I told you when you moved in that you could use whatever you needed.”  
   
“Dean, it’s your property. You don’t have to justify why you were upset that I would utilize it.”  
   
Nodding, Dean looked up.  
   
“But,” Cas began, “Would you tell me why going to dinner tonight is special?”  
   
“I want the other reason we’re having dinner to be a surprise, ok?”  
   
“So there is more to it than it being our first date?”  
   
Dean slowly nodded, a slight pink filling his cheeks.  
   
“You know, all you had to do was tell me you wanted to surprise me.” Cas smirked. “Though you surprise me everyday . . .”  
   
“Cas,” Dean murmured.  
   
“You do,” he scooted closer to Dean so he could nuzzle into his neck and place a kiss on Dean’s collarbone. “You have shown me so many things over the last month.”  
   
“Cas,” Dean moaned, pretending to be exasperated, and shuddering as Cas began nibbling at the hollow of his throat.  
   
Cas murmured, “Yes, Dean?” against the base of Dean’s throat.  
   
Dean turned to place a kiss on the top of Cas’ head, mumbling into his hair, “I’m really sorry.”  
   
“For what?”  
   
“For snapping at you last night..” Dean’s breath caught as Cas trailed kisses up his throat, and he gasped out, “And for not telling you that I still had a picture of Benny on the laptop . . .”  
   
Abruptly, Cas pulled away. “Is that who the man in the beret is?” At Dean’s nod, Cas continued softly, “Why would you keep that?”  
   
“I thought I loved him, Cas,” Dean sighed, “It turns out he was just a stop on the road to you.”  
   
Cas smiled and gave Dean a quick kiss. He gestured to the laptop. . “Do you think we should start?”  
   
“Start what?” Dean stared at him, open mouthed and completely bewildered, as if Cas had just asked if the sky was purple.  
   
Shaking his head, Cas answered, “Finding a job for me.”  
   
“Oh, yeah, we should.” Dean picked up the laptop, gently shaking the mouse to wake it up. After staring at the password screen for a moment, Dean handed the laptop to Cas. Getting up, he told Cas the password and headed to the kitchen. A moment later, Cas heard him call out, “You didn’t tell me there was fresh coffee!”  
   
Cas smiled as he input the password and was rewarded with the start screen. Once it had loaded, Cas couldn’t believe his eyes. There, in front of him, was a picture of Dean and Sam when they were young children. Dean must have been about nine which put Sam around four or five. They were standing in front of a tree; Dean had a petulant look on his face while staring at Sam, who was smiling brightly. Cas noticed that the front of Dean’s shirt was wet. _Which might explain the looks on both their faces._ Smirking, he turned to face Dean, who’d just come back into the living room with his cup of coffee and a fresh mug for Cas, too.  
   
“Did Sam throw water at you just before this picture was taken?” he asked once Dean was sitting next to him and could see the laptop.  
   
“Yeah,” he answered, then mumbled under his breath, “Little shit got away with it, too.”  
   
Cas turned to face him. “Dean, you can’t still be mad about it—it happened what, fifteen years ago?”  
   
“Thereabouts, yeah.”  
   
“You look so adorable,” Cas gushed, then opened the internet browser.  
   
Dean stared at him for a moment., “Cas . . . You sure you still wanna have dinner with me tonight?”  
   
Glancing from the screen to Dean and back, Cas questioned, “You really need to ask that?”  
   
“I do, yes.”  
   
Tilting his head, Cas asked, “Why?”  
   
“Because . . . I was an ass. And I don’t have the right to assume that just because you said ‘yes’ last night doesn’t mean you haven’t changed your mind this morning.”  
   
“Speaking of this morning . . .” Cas trailed off as he glanced towards his bedroom door.  
   
“What about it?” Dean asked hesitantly.  
   
“Why were you in my room, in my bed?” Cas inquired.  
   
“I . . .I thought that . . . ,“ Dean tried, and then, giving himself a few seconds to try again, he attempted, “I was hoping . . .” He inhaled deeply. “Ok, so I thought . . .” He trailed off again, and this time, fell silent.  
   
Cas reached out to take Dean’s hands in his and just stared back at him, waiting for an answer.  
   
Dean looked down at his hands, which were holding tightly to Cas’, and continued, “I thought that I should apologize since one of the rules we made was that we don’t go to bed angry, but you were asleep so I just thought I’d lay down until you stirred enough that you’d realize I was there. But then my eyes got tired and I told myself that I’d only close them for a minute, and then next thing I knew, you were gone.”  
   
“So you _were_ intending to apologize,” Cas said, “But instead you came out here, saw me on the laptop and assumed that I was—what? Snooping?” Dean shook his head, “You know I would never do that. I want . . . No, I _need_ you to trust me.” Cas placed his hand under Dean’s chin and gently raised his face to look at him. “You trust me, don’t you, Dean?”  
   
Without hesitation, Dean answered, “Of course.”  
   
“Then why did you get upset when you saw me staring at your laptop?”  
   
Dean glanced down to the floor as he thought for a moment before answering, “Because I had forgotten that Benny’s picture was still on it.” He straightened to look Cas in the eye. “And I didn’t want you to think the reason it was there was because I was still in love with him or anything.”  
   
Cas reached across the empty space between them to comb his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I didn’t think anything of the sort.”  
   
“Because you didn’t know it was Benny,” Dean tried to argue.  
   
“No,” Cas shook his head. “Because I knew that these were people who meant something to you, whether they were still a part of your life,” he pointed to the picture of Sam and Dean, “or not.” He gestured to the picture of Mary on the table behind him.  
   
“Cas,” Dean’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry.”  
   
“You keep saying that as if I haven’t forgiven you already.” Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “There’s nothing you could ever do that I won’t forgive you for, Dean.”   
   
_Please remember that . . ._  
   
Dean turned to capture Cas’ lips. The first brush across Cas’ with his own was gentle. The second pass was a little firmer, but the third? That third kiss was burned in Cas’ memory for the rest of his life.  
   
Dean nibbled at Cas’ bottom lip until he opened and once the seal was broken, Dean lightly licked the inside of Cas’ upper lip before pulling it in between his to gently bite it. Cas groaned and Dean deepened the kiss, pressing him against the back of the couch. Cas responded by placing his hands on Dean’s back and digging his fingers into the softer tissue on the outside of his spine.   
   
Dean pulled back just enough for Cas to feel the need to chase his lips. Once he’d reclaimed Dean’s lips with his own, Cas licked at his lower lip. Dean took the opportunity to pull Cas’ tongue into his mouth, gently chasing it with his own. Cas felt Dean reach between them and pull his shirt up to expose his stomach. Opening his eyes, Cas saw the look of want—the desperate _need_ — on Dean’s face, and pushed his hand down, which caused Dean to pull back.  
   
“What is it, Cas?” Dean asked, panting slightly.  
   
“I . . .”  
   
Dean pulled back a bit more to see the expression on Cas’ face. What he saw there terrified him. “Cas?”  
   
“It’s nothing, Dean.”  
   
Lifting himself off Cas, Dean kneeled in front of him. “Cas, that look didn’t mean ‘nothing’.” He placed a hand on Cas’ cheek and pleaded, “Please tell me what’s wrong?”   
   
Cas turned away from Dean’s hand. “Really, Dean. It’s nothing.” He looked to the laptop. “Can we start the job-searching now?”  
   
Dean frowned. “Sure, Cas. Whatever you want.”  
   
Turning to look into Dean’s eyes, Cas whispered, “It’s not what I want, but it’s what I need to do, Dean.”  
   
“Why?”  
   
“I . . .  I’m not ready to talk about it,” Cas said, and as Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he added, “yet.”  
   
Dean released the breath in relief. “But you will tell me?”  
   
“Yes, Dean.” Cas gave a small smile. “I’ll tell you everything.”  
   
Nodding, Dean got up from the floor and sat next to Cas. “Alright, Cas. Now, let’s see about finding you your dream job.”  
   
Dean began searching on the laptop and Cas took down the information on each job he found. After searching for a couple hours, they decided to call it a day.  
   
“You wanna finish that movie we started last night?” Dean asked after he’d turned off the laptop.  
   
Cas looked up from placing his notes on the kitchen table. “What?”  
   
Dean gestured to the television. “The movie you picked out last night that I stormed out in the middle of—do you wanna finish it?”  
   
“We don’t have to,” Cas answered as he returned to his spot next to Dean.  
   
Dean peered at him, a thoughtful look on his face, and then broke out into a grin. Teasingly, he said, “But you want to.”  
   
“I do.” Cas’ eyes lit up. “I quite liked figuring out if ‘he’s just not that into me’, or if he is, based on the facts provided.”  
   
Shaking his head, Dean laughed as he pushed Cas. “Trust me, he is.”  
   
Cas stared at him and in a deadpan tone, asked, “How do you know?”  
   
Straightening, Dean’s grin was replaced by a frown. “You’re kidding me, right, Cas?”  
   
“What are you talking about?” Cas tilted his head to the side.  
   
“You . . .” Narrowing his eyes, Dean saw that Cas’ mouth was straining to hide a smile. “You almost had me.”  
   
Cas snorted. “Really, Dean? You doubted it was you? Even after our kiss earlier?”  
   
Dean’s shoulders dropped. “Well, yeah . . . I mean, you did _stop_ that kiss.”  
   
“I told you— I will tell you all about why. I just need some time.”  
   
Dean ran a hand over his face. “I know you did, Cas, but it still worries me.” He glanced at Cas and saw the confusion on his face. “You didn’t see the look of terror you had, man. I felt like I was hurting you or something.”  
   
Cas reached out to take Dean’s hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean for you to, I mean… I didn’t think it would affect me like that. I don’t know what happened. I know you’d never allow any hard to come to me, but…,” Cas shrugged, “It was as if I wasn’t really here, I suppose. I felt like I was only _watching_ what was going on. Dean, I swear, I know you would never hurt me. It was just… I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. Not yet.”  
   
Dean gave a small grunt of acknowledgment, but moved to turn away.  
   
Cas tightened his grip on Dean’s hand and tugged it lightly to regain his attention. “I want to, though. You have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I just—I need _time_ , ok?”  
   
“Of course, Cas. Whatever you need.” Dean smiled. “It really is ok, Cas. I understand that you have things you don’t want to tell me. I get—”  
   
“No,” Cas interrupted, “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I do. I want to. I _need_ to. I just . .  I don’t think you’re ready to hear it.”  
   
“Cas, if you feel that there’s something you can’t tell me then this,” Dean gestured between them, “isn’t going to work. You have to know that you can trust me, Cas. Compl—”  
   
Interrupting him for the second time, Cas said, “I do, Dean. I trust you completely. But...” Cas lowered his head so he was staring at Dean’s feet. “You’re not ready to accept it.”  
   
“Accept what, Cas?”  
   
Cas remained silent.  
   
Dean tried again.“Cas, you’re scaring me… Cas? Did someone hurt you?”  
   
Cas jerked his head up. “What? No!”  
   
Dean frowned. “You sure?”  
   
“No, Dean. No one hurt me,” Cas repeated, “Not the way you’re implying.”  
   
“Cas, I really want you to tell me what’s going on . . .”   
   
Cas fell silent again.  
   
Dean held his hand palm up in a show of peace. “But I also don’t want to fight with you.”  
   
Cas sighed, as if tired, and said softly, “Then let it go, ok?”  
   
“Alright…” Dean chewed his lip for a moment, then pointed at the TV. “You wanna…?”.  
   
“Yes, please.”  
   
They curled up on the couch and watched the rest of the movie they failed to the previous night.  
   
Once the credits rolled, Cas asked, “So, he kept telling her that if a guy did ‘this’, or ‘this’, or ‘this’, then it meant they were just putting on a show?”   
   
Dean nodded  
.  
“And then did all of those same things to her?”   
   
Again, Dean nodded.   
   
“But he really _was_ into her.”  
   
“Yes, Cas.”  
   
“But he—”  
   
“Are we _really_ going to discuss that same point again?” Dean looked pointedly at his cell phone. “‘Cause it’s already five-thirty and our reservation is for seven.”   
   
Cas’ eyes widened in near shock.  
   
Dean chuckled. “Yes, I did say _reservation_.”  
   
“Really?”  
   
“Yes,” Dean leaned over to place a kiss on Cas’ smiling lips. “It’s our first date, and I’m going all out.”  
   
“Dean?’  
   
“Yeah, Cas?”  
   
“What am I supposed to wear?” he asked.  
   
Grinning, Dean answered, “The suit I put in your closet.”  
   
“You put a suit in my closet? When?”  
   
“Three days ago.”  
   
“Three _days_ ago?”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“Where the hell was I?”  
   
“Showering.”  
   
“You were in my room when I was showering?”  
   
“No?” Dean tried to fib.  
   
“Winchester!” Cas growled.  
   
“You know,” Dean leaned over and kissed the tip of Cas’ nose, “you’re really cute when you growl at me like that.”  
   
“Then be prepared for a whole lot of cuteness!” Cas grumbled.  
   
“I always am when it’s you,” Dean said as he retreated to his own room to get ready.

Less than an hour later, both men were facing each other in the living room. Cas was wearing a light blue dress shirt, navy blue slacks with light gray pinstripes, a matching jacket, and a pair of shiny black shoes. Knotted somewhat loosely around his neck was a navy blue tie.  
   
Dean whistled appreciatively. “You look amazing. I knew that shade of blue would suit you perfectly.”  
   
Cas blushed. “Thank you, Dean.” Taking in Dean’s appearance, he smiled. “You look pretty good yourself.”  
   
Glancing down at his crimson dress shirt, black slacks, matching jacket and his own pair of shiny black dress shoes, Dean smiled. “Thanks, Cas.”  
   
Noticing Dean was missing something, Cas asked, “Where’s your tie?”  
   
“I’m not wearing one of those death traps.”  
   
Cas balked at Dean’s words and tugged at his own tie. “But you’re going to make _me_ wear one?”  
   
The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”  
   
Reaching up to take the tie off, Cas smirked, however, Dean’s next words stopped him.  
   
“I guess I’ll wear this then,” he said as he pulled a skinny black tie out from his pants pocket and put it on.  
   
Cas asked, “Were you just hoping I wouldn’t notice that you weren’t wearing one?”  
   
Dean gave a mischievous grin. “Actually, yeah, I was.”  
   
“Are you kidding?”  
   
Dean burst into laughter. “No, I’m not.”  
   
“You really thought you could get away with it?”  
   
“No, but I thought I’d at least try.”  
   
Cas stared at him, shaking his head slightly. “Dean?”  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“Sometimes I wonder about your sanity.”  
   
Dean looked him in the eyes. “Me too,” he replied before grabbing his jacket and heading out the door.  
   
Cas watched Dean walk out of the apartment before realizing that he needed to follow him. How was he going to get a second date with Dean Winchester if he never went on the first?

Pulling up to the restaurant, Cas began to have serious doubts.   
   
Should he have let Dean know he knew it was his birthday and that was why today was important to him? Should he have told him he’d found out about the reservations two weeks ago when he was looking for a pen to take a message for Dean?   
   
Now that he thought about it, Cas frowned, realizing he probably should have told Dean he’d talked to Sammy and that his brother was going to be here sometime tomorrow morning.   
   
Should he even bring up the present he got for him? He knew Dean would be happy but . . .   
   
He felt like he should have something more tangible to gift to the man who’d saved him on Dean’s birthday.  
   
“Hey, Cas?”   
   
Cas looked up to see Dean standing at the passenger door, waiting for Cas to get out.   
   
“Are you coming?” Dean gestured towards the entrance.  
   
“Yes. Yes, of course.”  
   
“Then c’mon.” Dean took his hand and pulled him out of the car. He gave a light squeeze before relinquishing it.  
   
Entering the foyer of the upscale restaurant, Cas recognized a few people from the bar Dean worked at. _I thought he said it was just going to be us,_ he thought, slightly irritated.  
   
“I didn’t know you were going to be here, Charlie.”  
   
_Oh, he didn’t know._ Cas felt his irritation begin melting away.  
   
“I couldn’t miss telling my best friend ‘hap—.”  
   
Dean interrupted her. “Charlie, have you met Cas?”   
   
The redhead flashed Dean a look of inquiry, before holding out her hand. “Hello, Cas.”  
   
Cas grasped it firmly, but gently as he shook. “Hello, Ms. Bradbury.”  
   
Dean turned to the woman standing next to Charlie. “This is Dorothy.”  
   
“Hello, Cas,” Dorothy dipped her head towards him.  
   
“Ms. Baum.”  
   
Dean nodded to the man standing behind Dorothy. “Kevin.”  
   
“Hello, Mr. Tran,” Cas acknowledged.  
   
“This here is Mr. Roman.” Under his breath, Dean whispered, “My boss.”  
   
“Good evening, Mr. Roman.”  
   
“Castiel, it’s a pleasure to see you.”  
   
If Dean was surprised Cas knew these people, he didn’t show it. Dean left Cas to converse with his friends while he went to check on their table.  
   
“So you’re Cas?” A voice came from behind Cas.  
   
Turning, he saw the young blonde woman from Dean’s picture.  
   
He nodded. “I am, yes.”  
   
“Well,” her eyes roamed up and down his body, “at least you clean up nicely.”  
   
Rather than replying, Cas stared at her.  
   
“You don’t have anything to say?” she asked.  
   
“Not really.”  
   
“Nothing of interest whatsoever to speak of?”  
   
“I’m just waiting for Dean.”  
   
She giggled, her gaze darkening, “Oh, honey. You’ll be waiting a long time.”  
   
Charlie elbowed the woman in the ribs, then moved to lead the blonde woman away. Over her shoulder, Charlie smiled at Cas. “I’m sure I’ll see you another time.”  
   
Cas stared after the small group.  
   
“Sorry, Cas,” Dean said as he came up beside him, placing a hand at the small of Cas’ back.  
   
Cas twisted his upper body to look at the other man. “What for, Dean?”  
   
“They were supposed to have our table ready as soon as we got here,” he glanced in the direction of the bar, “I guess someone important came in because they gave our table to them.”  
   
“Dean,” he began, “We don’t have to—”  
   
“Let’s go wait at the bar.” Dean took Cas’ hand to lead him away from the hostess. “They’ll let us know when they’re ready for us.”  
   
Cas pulled against Dean’s momentum to get him to stop. “Surely they can find somewhere to seat us. After all, you did make reservations.”  
   
“I did.” Dean shrugged. “But shit happens.”  
   
Cas walked over to the hostess. “Excuse me? Do you have the time?”  
   
She looked down at her watch. “It’s five til seven.”  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“You’re welcome, sir. Is there anything else?”  
   
“Yes, would you please let me know when our table is ready?” Cas gestured to where Dean stood.  
   
Seeing where his gaze went, the hostess said, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not quite ready for you.”  
   
Cas turned to look at her, eyes wide. “Of course not, we’ve made reservations for seven and we’re here early. I wouldn’t blame you for not having our table ready.” He narrowed his eyes, slightly. “It’s not as if you gave our table to another couple, right?”  
   
“Of course not, sir.”  
   
“I’ll see you in . . . five minutes, yes?” he politely questioned.  
   
“Yes, of course you will, sir.”  
   
“Thank you,” he glanced to her name tag, “Bethany.”  
   
Pivoting on his heel, he headed back to where Dean stood, staring at him.  
   
“Yes, Dean?” Cas asked when he was within speaking distance.  
   
Rather than answer, Dean stared at the scene unfolding behind Cas at the hostess podium. After a moment, he asked, “What in the hell did you say to her?”  
   
“What do you mean?” Cas asked, pleasantly.  
   
He gestured for Cas to turn around. Cas did so, finding the hostess frantically speaking to, what he imagined was a manager, gesturing in his direction.  
   
“You caused an uproar,” Dean hissed.  
   
Cas just grinned.  
   
“What did you say to her?” he repeated.  
   
“I merely reminded her that when someone makes a reservation they expect that reservation to be honored.” Cas looked down at his watch. “We should be seated in less than four minutes.”  
   
“How do you know that?”  
   
“Because I made a point that our reservation was at seven.” Cas gave Dean a soft smile.”And we can’t have anything screwing our first date up, can we?”  
   
Dean stared at him with a small smile on his lips. Dumbfounded, he joked, “Who are you and what did you do with my sweet Cas?”  
   
“Ow,” Cas pouted, hands coming up to clutch at his chest, “that hurt my feelings.”  
   
Dean chuckled. “No, I just meant that you’ve never made veiled threats before.”  
   
“I did no such thing, Dean. I only suggested that when someone makes a reservation they expect the restaurant to seat them at that time.”  
   
Because he’d rather not argue, Dean relented. “Alright.”  
   
Less than three minutes later, they were seated at their table.  
   
“Wow, Cas,” Dean said, taking notice that they were seated at a table near the front of the restaurant, but secluded enough that they had some privacy. “I’m pretty sure this is where they put their ‘bigwigs’.”  
   
Cas nodded. “It is.”  
   
“How do you . . . “ Dean glanced around and saw that they were being stared at by several of the Lawrence elite.  
   
“I’m sorry, Dean. I was just trying to get us seated at the proper time.”  
   
“Why’re you apologizing, Cas? You’ve done nothing wrong.”  
   
“Yes, but now you seem to be upset,” Cas observed.  
   
“I am, but it has nothing to do with what you did.”  
   
Reaching across the table to take Dean’s hand, Cas inquired, “Then what is it?”  
   
Dean huffed. “It’’s my birthday today and none of my friends cared enough to stop by or call or even send a text. Hell, Sammy still hasn’t called, and he’s _never_ forgotten my birthday.”  
   
Smiling, Cas realized, _Now was the perfect time to say_ , “Happy birthday, Dean.”  
   
“Thanks, Cas.”  
   
“You’re welcome.” Cas gave a gentle squeeze to Dean’s hand. “I have something for you.”  
   
“You do?” Dean asked, openly curious.  
   
“Yes, I do.”  
   
“Are you going to keep me in suspense all night, or are you just waiting for the right time to give it to me?” Dean questioned after waiting a few minutes to see what Cas was going to do.  
   
“I’m going to do it now because, if I don’t, then I can’t tell you the second part.”  
   
“It’s a _two_ part present?”  
   
Cas chuckled. “It is.”  
   
“Sweet,” Dean said, “Is the second part pie?”  
   
“No, Dean. There’s no pie,” Cas replied, frowning.  
   
He waved his hand over his shoulder. “That’s ok. I can have pie another time.”  
   
Cas gave a half smile. “You know that I’ve been looking for a job?”   
   
Dean nodded, confusion plain on his face.   
   
“I found one, on Friday.”  
   
“You did?”  
   
“I did,” Cas answered, grinning.  
   
“If you found one Friday, why did we look all weekend?”  
   
“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for you.”  
   
“Oh, well that’s great news.”  
   
“It is,” Cas agreed.  
   
“Well, where at? What are you doing? When do you start?”  
   
“It’s not with a company. It’s a private contractor.”  
   
“Ok,” Dean said.  
   
“And I start whenever I want. I set my own hours.”  
   
“What is it that you’re doing?”  
   
“I’m designing houses again, Dean.” Cas beamed at him. “And it’s because of your faith in me.”  
   
“I thought you wanted to draw? To paint?” Dean gave a tight smile. “I’ve seen your drawings, Cas. You’re good. You could sell at the local art gallery if you wanted to.”  
   
“I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy,” Cas stated, his own smile fading.  
   
“I _am_ happy, but only if _you’re_ happy, Cas. I don’t want you to take the job if it’s not something you want to do.”  
   
“But I enjoy this, Dean.”  
   
“Ok, well, as long as you’re happy, then I am too.” Dean plastered a grin on his face.  
   
“Dean, you’re not,” Cas said a moment later. “You’re upset.”  
   
“I’m not. I’m concerned that you’re doing exactly what you said you didn’t want to do, but I’m not upset.”  
   
“But you don’t want me to work designing buildings?” Cas questioned.  
   
“Cas, I really do just want you to be happy.”  
   
“I don’t understand, Dean. I can make really good money doing this,” Cas argued, “I can finally move to my own place, which is the second part of the gift.”  
   
Dean’s fake smile faltered. “You . . .You’d really move out?”  
   
Cas took a minute to reply. “Well, yes. You said I could stay with you until I got on my feet, and taking this job will accomplish that.”  
   
“Yes, it would,” Dean agreed.  
   
“So why shouldn’t I do it?” Cas asked.

Dean sat, staring at his boyfriend of exactly three weeks, two days and ten hours.  
   
_So, why shouldn’t he do it?_ Dean asked himself. _Why shouldn’t Cas take the job and move out? I knew it was coming—I saw the search history for apartments. If I had any thoughts that he’d stay_ after _he got a job, that made it clear he would be moving out._  
   
Somewhere, deep down, he knew the answer. It was simple, but here he was, overthinking it.   
   
So Dean continued to stare at the rose vase in the middle of their table, contemplating how to answer that question. He knew what he wanted to say, what he should say, and what he thought Cas would want to hear, but he couldn’t get any of it out. He knew he needed to answer Cas’ question, but he couldn’t bare to say any of the things he wanted _—_ the things he _needed_ to say.  
   
“Dean? I asked you a question.”  
   
“Yes, I know you did.”  
   
“Are you still thinking about an answer?”  
   
“Yeah, yeah, Cas I am.”  
   
“Oh.”  
   
Dean focused on the flower in the vase. _I should just tell him I want him to stay,_ he thought a second later.   
   
_No, don’t tell him,_ another voice said, _you’re going to scare him and then you’ll be alone again._  
   
He shook his head to clear it. _Tell him that you want him to stay, Dean,_ a soft voice began, _Tell him that you want him to stay forever and that you’ll happily wait until he’s ready to tell you his story._ _Tell him, Dean. Tell him you don’t want him to move out on his own, that you fell for him the moment you saw him all those months ago. Tell him that you saw what he did for that young girl in the park six months ago._  
   
A small smile tugged at Dean’s lips as he remembered that day.  
   
_Tell him you don’t care that he lived on the street; you don’t care that he was homeless and penniless, Dean. Tell him that you’ve fallen even more in love with him this past month than you’d ever thought possible. Tell him, Dean Henry Winchester, that you don’t want to spend another lonely night without him._  
   
Dean shook his head to clear it again.   
   
Surely he was just imagining the voice sounded like—  
   
_That almost sounds like Mom, but that’s ridiculous._  
   
_Right?_  
   
“Dean?” Cas growled, obviously having attempted to gain Dean’s attention several times.  
   
Startled from his thoughts, Dean looked up into Cas’ eyes. “Yes, I’m sorry. What did you ask?”  
   
Sighing, Cas asked again. “I asked you why I shouldn’t do it? Why shouldn’t I take the job and move out?” He gestured to Dean. “I’m still waiting for a reply.”  
   
Dean looked down at the rose between them again. Was it his imagination or had it gotten brighter? Fuller? He glanced to Cas, silent question in his eyes.  
   
“What, Dean?’  
   
“The flower,” he started.  
   
“It’s a rose, so what? All the tables have them,” Cas gestured to the rest of the dining area.  
   
_Of course all the tables have a rose!_ Dean peered at all of them he could see, and those looked nothing like the one on the table he and Cas were seated at. The ones at the other tables were duller, less attractive. Sure, it could be the lighting, or they could have just gotten seated at a table that had a fresher one, but what if that wasn’t the reason?   
   
_And what is that I smell? Is that . . ._  
   
Dean glanced up at the roof. There hanging above Cas’ head, just like Christmas Day, was a fresh sprig of mistletoe.  
   
“Do you have a reply yet, Dean?”  
   
Rather than answer, Dean stood up from his chair and moved around the table to where Cas was seated.  
   
“Dean?” Cas said, uncertainty showing on his face.  
   
Dean pulled Cas up to stand, and placing his hands on Cas’ hips, Dean pulled him closer. He softly brushed his lips against Cas’, who didn’t get a chance to react before Dean was pulling back and staring up at the ceiling.  
   
Following the younger man’s gaze, Cas’ eyes stopped when he saw it. “Mistletoe,” he mumbled against Dean’s cheek.  
   
“Yeah, Cas,” Dean whispered, “mistletoe.” He pulled back so he could meet Cas’ eyes. “I don’t want you to move out, Cas. I don’t care that you were homeless and penniless this time last month. I fell in love with you six months ago when I saw you give that little girl the money you were given by the people of this city, and I love that you’d do it again if it were necessary. I won’t tell you not to take the job because that’s up to you, but I don’t want you to move out. I want you to stay with me. Forever.”   
   
Cas gasped softly, eyes wide as he took in Dean and everything he was offering.  
   
Dean tenderly cupped Cas’s jaw in his palm. “I’m not suggesting marriage right now, but I want to make it clear that that _is_ my end game with you, Cas. I’ll wait as long as you need me to so I can hear your story, babe. I want to know everything about you, but I want to know it on _your_ terms, not mine. You call me out on my shit and I love that about you. I’ve spent the last month getting to know you and I can’t believe I’ve fallen even more in love with you than I was before, but I have.” He gave Cas a watery smile. “I know I’m not perfect, Cas. And I know you’re not either, and maybe—just maybe—our not-so-perfect lives right now can be _our_ perfect life later down the road.  
   
“So, what do you say, Novak? Will you be my birthday gift for the rest of my life? I can’t stand another lonely night without you.”  
   
Cas stood, unmoving, unflinching, and staring stoically at Dean.   
   
Time passed, and Dean couldn’t say if it were seconds, minutes or hours, but finally—fucking _finally_ —Cas spoke.  
   
“I say Happy fucking Birthday, Dean Winchester,” Cas replied before closing the distance between them and sealing their pact with a kiss.

The past week had proved to be difficult, with both of them having to decide what boundaries to instill on their new relationship status. Dean didn’t want Cas to assume that because Dean had asked him to _officially_ move in with him that he expected them to sleep together; he didn’t want Cas to feel that he “owed” Dean anything.   
   
The morning after Dean’s birthday, Dean and Cas had sat down and discussed how their relationship dynamic would change. Dean promised Cas that he’d talk to him about his mom when he needed to, and Cas told Dean that he’d eventually tell him his entire story—even the parts that weren’t pretty. Together, the couple decided that after the year they’d just had, they would start this one off right.  
   
Starting it off right meant Dean told Cas he didn't expect anything from him that he wasn't willing to give. That included making and bringing Dean dinner to the bar; Cas told Dean it was the least he could do since Dean worked nights and couldn't get a decent meal to save his life. There was also straightening up the apartment they shared—again, Cas insisted. He even did the laundry every other day, whether it needed to be done or not. “I’d rather do it now than wait until the end of the week and have several piles of it to do,” Cas argued each time Dean suggested that he needn’t do it so often. Cas even walked him to work —“You’re at the bar more than 50 hours a week. I hardly get to see you if I don’t,” Cas would always retort when Dean mentioned it wasn’t necessary because, “I’m a grown ass man who can get to work by himself without any trouble.”  
   
Of course, Dean doesn’t need to go anywhere to get himself in trouble; he does that on a daily basis with Cas, but it’s not as if he tries. Cas sometimes gets irritated easily.   
   
Just this morning Cas got mad at his boyfriend of just over a month because Dean had forgotten they were having breakfast together instead of lunch. And last night, he’d been yelled at because he’d forgotten to tell Cas that Sam was staying for two weeks instead of the one they originally agreed upon. And three days ago, Cas had called him up on Dean’s way into work, upset that Dean had failed to pick up the mail for four days and all of their bills were going to be late (they weren’t, Cas was being dramatic).  
   
Now he’s sitting on their bed, waiting for Cas to come in and yell at him because he’d left his toothbrush sitting on the left side of the sink instead of the right.   
   
(Ok, so sometimes he _does_ do it on purpose.)  
   
“Babe?” Cas tentatively called from the door of their bedroom.  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“I’m sorry I yelled at you because you did the dishes incorrectly.”  
   
Dean smiled. “It’s ok, Cas. You want things to be done a certain way. I should try harder to understand and remember that.”  
   
Cas crossed the room and climbed into bed with Dean, smiling. “And I’ll make an effort to be more open to compromise.”   
   
After giving Cas a few minutes so he could settle in, Dean turned out the light on his side of their bed before snuggling down into the soft blankets, waiting for the inevitable cold hand. Cas always reached across his body to grasp his arm and tug him towards the middle of their bed until Dean would eventually give in. He would scoot closer to Cas so he could lay with his head on Dean’s chest and hold Dean’s hand as they drifted off to sleep. And, when Cas’ cold hand finally came, Dean moved closer still and smiled, knowing he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
   
See, Dean didn’t need anyone’s help to get himself in trouble.  
   
He did just fine on his own.


End file.
